


One Call Away

by inherownwords



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: F/F, F/M, Facetime, Quarantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:13:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23566636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inherownwords/pseuds/inherownwords
Summary: Facetiming during quarantine, after a fight
Relationships: Auston Matthews/Reader
Kudos: 16





	One Call Away

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever written Auston Matthews and the second time I've ever written reader insert. Hope it's okay!

You're sitting on the couch, minding your own business, watching some trash reality TV, when your phone starts chiming next to you. You startle, almost knocking down your drink as you reach for the phone and pick it up. Auston's name flashes across the screen- a facetime call. Groaning, you consider not answering it. The last time you saw him, a week ago, had not been a pleasant experience. You had gone to a bar with him and some of his friends, and it had been a great time-- right up until the random girl had walked up and perched herself on Auston's lap without so much as a 'hello'. That would've been… fine. If he had told her to move. Instead his hands came up and gripped her hips like he was perfectly content having her there.

And, look, you're not dating him. You know that realistically you have no claim to him and he can touch whoever he wants. But you thought maybe there was something there- something between you that he felt, too. Except maybe you were wrong, because when you gave him a pointed look, he had just smirked at you, settling back into his seat like there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

You left maybe 15 minutes later without a word.

You hadn't spoken to him since, not that you really expected to hear from him. He's never one to apologize, especially when he thinks he didn't do anything wrong. And really, you remind yourself, he _didn't_.

That doesn't mean you want to talk to him. You're under quarantine; the social-distancing order put in place the day after the incident. There's nothing he could really do if you decided not to answer. But you sigh, figuring you should just get this over with, and answer the call.

"You shaved your mustache," is the first thing you say when you catch sight of him. He seems to be laying on his bed, wearing what you know is his favorite, softest hoodie.

"I know how much you hated it," he shrugs. Your eyes narrow at your screen. Is he trying to butter you up? You're determined to not let it work, even if he does look so much better without the stupid mustache.

"It made you look like a 40 year old man," you say for the thousandth time, the argument well-worn. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to see your face," he grins. "I would've come and knocked on your door, but y'know."

"What happened to blondie?" you can't help but ask. He tilts his head, confused for a second before he realizes what you mean. Then he rolls his eyes. Something about the gesture sets your blood boiling.

"You're still mad about that?" he teases. You are not amused. "C'mon, babe, you know you're the only one for me." You really, seriously consider hanging up on him and he must see it in your face because the grin drops. "Seriously, you're still upset about that?"

"What part of me not speaking to you for a week didn't get that across?" Unless he seriously didn't notice. The thought of him not even realizing you weren't speaking to him makes your chest tight. Maybe you're more insignificant to him than you thought.

"I thought maybe you were busy," he deflects.

"Busy? We're in quarantine!" you shout, arms flailing. Bringing the phone back into view, you see him rolling his eyes again. "Roll your eyes at me again, Auston Matthews, and I will hang up this call faster than you can blink." He's tempted to do it again, you can see it in his eyes, and your thumb hovers over the end call button. But he manages to control himself.

"Why did it bother you so much anyway?" He shifts around and brings the phone closer to his face, seeming like he's trying to see your face better. "The girl, I mean." The fact that he's even asking makes you want to curl into a ball.

"You're kind of a dick, you know that?" You ask instead of answering him. He gives you a sort of half-smile.

"I have been told that, yes." He's not apologetic in the least. You sit silently for a moment, thinking. There's probably no better time to confront him about this than right now. You can do this over facetime, and if it turns out bad then you can just pretend not to know each other anymore.

"Look," you say seriously, making sure you have his full attention. "I like you. And if you don't want to date me, I get it, you're an NHL hotshot who has his pick of men and women across North America." You take a deep breath. "But I need you to tell me that now. We can still be friends, or not, whatever, but I need you to be honest with me." You keep yours eyes away from the screen, firmly on the floor, afraid to see what his face is doing. He's quiet for so long that you wonder if he hung up on you. When you finally lift your eyes, he's looking at you thoughtfully.

"Honest?" he asks quietly. Bracing yourself for whatever he's about to say, you nod. "I let her sit on my lap because I wanted to make you jealous. I saw it bothered you and I liked knowing that you cared enough for it to matter." Angry tears start welling up in your eyes and you throw the phone down on the couch so he doesn't see. "That's why I didn't call you sooner. I know it was stupid and I didn't want to explain myself."

"That's some manipulative shit, Matthews." Somehow your voice comes out calm despite the hot tears falling down your face.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, and that's enough to make you pause. He doesn't apologize often. "Seriously. I didn't think it through. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." You make sure to wipe any stray tears off your face before picking up the phone again. He looks suitably contrite, biting his lip and looking at you from under his lashes.

"You didn't think making me jealous would hurt my feelings?"

"I'm an idiot," he shrugs. "Forgive me?" Sighing, you nod and he shoots you a hesitant smile.

"Don't ever do anything like that again," you demand, glaring.

"I won't, I promise." Suddenly he grins, and you raise an eyebrow. "Does this mean I can start telling people we're dating?"

"You haven't even taken me on a date," you protest, but the butterflies in your stomach are trying to bubble up into a giddy laugh. "We're not dating if we haven't gone on a date!"

"No fair! We're quarantined! How am I supposed to take you on a date?" Indignant looks good on him and you grin back.

"You should've thought of that months ago. You know, when we met and I kept waiting for you to ask me out and you never did?" His face goes serious and you tense in response.

"I wanted to. I just enjoyed being around you so much that I was afraid to push for more." The sincerity in his voice brings the butterflies back.

"And now?" you can't help but ask. He shrugs.  
"I'd like to see where this goes." You don't even bother trying to fight off your grin, and he smiles in response.

"But not until after quarantine," you warn him. "Nothing is going anywhere until after quarantine."

"We could have some really nice phone sex though," he says, waggling his eyebrows. It's your turn to roll your eyes at him.

"You really want our first sexual experience to be through the phone?" You sure don't. You want to be able to touch him, even if it means waiting even longer.

"Good point," he hums. His eyes flick to the side for a second before he looks back at you. "Netflix and chill?"

"Alright."


End file.
